Chapter 2: Back to the Burrow
By: Callisto Callispi
Harry Potter sneezed as he approached the Dursley's fireplace with Arthur Weasley behind him.
"The Burrow!" he said after he tossed in the glittering Floo Powder, immediately feeling himself spinning as he got sucked into the fireplace. Before he knew it, he was slowing down and smelling the faint aroma of pie baking in the oven.
He grinned as he saw Ron and Hermione sitting at the Weasley table, talking. Mrs. Weasley was washing dishes.
"Harry!" squealed Hermione. She got up from the table and hurried over to him.
"Hey, Harry!" said Ron, smiling enthusiastically.
"Oh my. I'm sorry, dear; I know Floo Powder is quite messy. How was your summer, Harry? Quite pleasant, I hope?" Molly asked as she hurried over to Harry and brushed the soot off of him.
"Harry, have you a chance to get your school supplies yet?" Hermione asked.
Harry almost missed Hermione's question as a plate of hot sausages had appeared in front of him. "Not yet, Hermione."
WHOOSH!
"Hi, Dad," said Ron.
Molly sighed as a fresh cloud of dust carpeted the kitchen floor. She approached her husband and dusted him off as well.
"Is that pie, I smell, Molly?" asked Arthur, sniffing appreciatively.
"Yes, dear. I do hope that the soot doesn't muss the furniture too much." Then her dusting arm faltered. She glanced at the three reunited friends. The jolly twinkle in her eyes vanished completely. "What was your business with Cornelius Fudge, Arthur? Please say he is still cooperating with Dumbledore."
Arthur sighed and put his face in his hands for a minute. "Not now, Molly. Please, the children . . ."
Molly glanced towards the laughing trio. "They aren't going to be children forever, Arthur. They will have to know." Her eyes narrowed. "That Malfoy child -- Draco was it? -- barely seventeen, and already proclaimed . . ."
"Please, Molly," pleaded Arthur quietly.
"This wasn't meant to be kept silent forever, you know. Dumbledore -- he has spies. I cannot bear to think about the horrible future ahead of that young man . . ."
"Molly, I will tell the children when I think they are ready to know," Arthur replied firmly.
Molly heaved a sigh. She checked on the pie in the oven. "All right, Arthur. All right."
"Mum! Is the pie ready yet?" called Ron.
"It won't be, young man, if you keep rushing it. It's not good to pressure the dough," snapped Molly. "I don't know why Fred and Ginny had to choose Quik-Rise flour. Don't they know that Homgreen's is the best for pressure cooking?"
Harry looked up. "Mrs. Weasley, where are the twins and Ginny? Mr. Weasley said that they would be here . . ."
"Well, the twins went to Diagon Alley with Ginny. They were more eager to get their products to the joke shop than go into Madam Malkin's shop, I think," said Molly disapprovingly.
"Mum hoped that the twins would work for the Ministry, regardless of Fudge, but they continued to produce fake wands and the lot," Ron whispered to Harry.
"They went to help pick out her new dress robes. She will be in sixth year," Molly announced proudly. "And sixth years are to go to the Yule Ball this year without older partners, and last two years there wasn't a Yule Ball . . ." Three heads snapped up at that remark, and Mrs. Weasley blushed furiously. "Oh my, did I say that out loud? I -- oh you were all bound to find out sooner or later," she added briskly.
"Mum, is that true? Another Yule Ball?" Ron demanded.
"No -- yes. I promised Dumbledore I'd keep it a secret but in all the excitement with Harry visiting, and my Ginny growing up, oh it's was just . . ." She beamed. "You won't tell your friends, though, will you?"
The three shook their heads quickly. Molly smiled.
Hermione stifled a giggle. "But now how am I going to get a partner?" she wondered jokingly.
Mrs. Weasley glanced at Hermione and took a bite of the pie. "Ron, why don't you go with Hermione?"
"WHAT!" Ron demanded, then coughed, choking on a piece of pie. "With Hermione?"
"Now, Molly," Arthur started, but his wife ignored him and continued on.
"Why not?" she asked sternly. "Hermione is such a pretty girl. Why, I bet she will be the belle of the ball."
Now it was Hermione's turn to blush, though Harry thought she seemed a bit hurt at Ron's spontaneous refusal to take her. "Don't worry, Ron. I wasn't planning on going to the ball with you, anyway." She grinned good-naturedly and poked her pie around a bit.
"Now you did it Ron," said Molly. "You lost yourself a perfectly nice partner!"
Arthur chuckled. "Now, now, Molly. Let's leave the children alone to decide their own partners."
The afternoon passed by. The twins and Ginny didn't show up until late evening. With all the excitement buzzing about, the remaining weeks of the summer seemed to go by in a flash. The twins left the trio and Ginny to check the sales of their products before they went to the markets.
Their products were a huge success. They weren't bathing in galleons, but, as Fred assured, as soon as the rumors regarding Voldemort's rise blew over, their sales would increase. And then they spoke with Harry dreamily, telling him all of the things they would buy. For Ron, more new dress robes. For Ginny, new texts and barrettes and robes and cosmetics. Even Harry's gift of the galleons he won at the end of the Tri-Wizard tournament failed to satisfy even half their desires for material items for both themselves and their siblings.
The weekends went by quickly -- quicker than the kids had hoped and soon they were off to Diagon Alley. Fred and George headed to a minor joke shop where they sold their products and left Ginny, Harry, Hermione, and Ron to wander around. They finished their school shopping the hour before.
"Say, Hermione, why don't we go to that pet clinic?" asked Ron.
"For what?" Hermione asked.
"You could trade in that Crook-whatever for a real owl."
"I thought you liked Crookshanks!"
"I never said I did. Especially after that nasty bugger scratched up my favorite pair of . . . of . . ."
Hermione waited for a response. Getting none, she finally demanded, "What is it?" Hermione then turned to see what Ron ogled at. "Really, Ron!"
There it was. The Vortex Version 3000: The Firebolt of the Future, the latest broomstick to ever be released. Ron's mouth was open like a fish.
Hermione, thoroughly annoyed, turned to Harry to see if there was any sense in him. Judging by his dreamy smile, there wasn't.
"You boys!" Ginny said.
Just as Ginny was about to push Ron over, the shop to the Quidditch Supplies store opened. Their expressions soured quickly as Draco Malfoy walked out. Though originally seeming to worry over something, Draco's lips tugged up in a smirk as he regarded the four.
"Well, well, Potter and two Weasleys." He then spotted Hermione. His eyes narrowed. "And you."
Hermione glared back at Draco.
"Enjoying summer? I'm surprised to see you here, Weasley. Of course, that expression on your face is as expected. Really, haven't you aything better to do than to ogle over something completely out of your league?" drawled Draco. His pale eyes lazily roamed over Hermione. "The company you keep, Potter. A mudblood and a clay-eating excuse for a wizard."
"Oh, bugger off, Malfoy," Hermione replied tartly. "You're so spoilt. Not everyone has everything handed to them on a silver platter -- including a quidditch position and a new broom that you completely did not deserve -- because of family money."
Ron snickered.
Draco's face twisted more. Then, after a pause, he relaxed, smirking. He shifted his gaze over to Hermione. "You've grown up, Granger," said Draco. He studied her reddening cheeks then glanced at Ron. "Fight your own battles from now on, Weasley. There will be times when Granger's sharp tongue won't be available to save you."
Ron laughed. "Get off your high horse. Getting whipped in the arse by Hermione. Pathetic."
"Better than being whipped by her mere presence," Draco snarled back with a nasty little smile playing on his lips.
Ron's face turned red -- but from anger or embarrassment, his friends could not tell.
"Malfoy, why don't you run before Ron decides to kill you?" said Hermione smoothly.
Draco sneered at her then turned around. "Why, standing up for me? Protecting me? I thank you, mudblood." He walked off.
Ron looked as if he were about to chase after Draco, and Ginny noticed.
"Come on, Ron. Ignore Malfoy. He's just a spoiled rot," said Ginny, adjusting her shopping bags uneasily.
"Yes. Come on, Ron," Hermione said softly, pulling on his arm. "Let's go where there aren't as many rats."
X
Draco Malfoy laughed quietly, opening the alley way wall with a flick of his wand. What fun, taunting the infamous trio: Potter's fame, Weasley's poverty, and Granger's heritage. The wall opened, and he stepped into a dark passageway. He cringed. A stink pervaded the air.
"Lumos," said Draco. The tip of his wand lit up. His hair seemed to glow. His black robes rustled behind him. "Arrhg!" Draco settled his hand on his left shoulder blade, wincing. Heat radiated from the mark. The damned thing had been throbbing all day, and it didn't seem to want to give him a break.
Draco stopped for a minute and breathed raggedly. His ears ached. The drip! drip! of the sewers sounded like waterfalls. It was happening again. The mark. He gripped his forehead, quickly breaking into a cold sweat. This happened frequently -- ever since he received the mark. He placed a hand on the wall to steady himself. And his shoulder -- damn did it throb!
For a few minutes, Draco remained still against the wall. Slowly, the pain began to fade away. Draco breathed deeply in and out and continued walking, slowly regaining his composure.
How would he ever attend the ball at the Malfoy manor in his disposition? Hopefully, it wouldn't start to ache while he had that supposedly beautiful young woman from Bulgaria in his arms during the minuet. Draco was actually looking forward to seeing her as he heard rumors of her beauty in Bulgaria.
Draco looked around. "Now, I passed three passageways, turn left on the fourth. Walk fifty paces, and with a spell, I should end up back in my room."
He started to count his paces. Though the place was smelly, dark, and filled with rats, this passageway was very useful. He had discovered it more than ten years before. When his father released his anger on him or his mother ordered him to study, he escaped through here. He uncovered all of its secrets in two years. And there were many, many ways to get lost.
In a few minutes, he came upon another wall. Draco recited a spell and the wall vanished. Draco stepped in.
Draco looked around. Indeed, he was in his room, no doubt. The wall he had once walked through was a mere tapestry. On his bed, Draco spotted some dress robes, courtesy of his mother no doubt. He walked over to them and unfolded them. The dark gray robes, probably of some expensive silver satin, weren't designed for regular dress. Attached to it was a note pinned on with a bobby pin. Draco glanced curiously at it and saw his mother's wispy, curvy handwriting.
Draco,
It appears that the young lady you were to escort is delayed in getting here.
I wish you to meet her at six 'o clock at the British Magical Transportation
Association, section: carriage. Her number is 42089 under Dimitrova. Her
uncle is already here. Ask Cromwell for assistance in the carriage.
DO NOT BE LATE!
Your Mother
Draco raised an eyebrow. He was no chauffeur. Why not have one of the servants do it? He then remembered the servants were all preparing for the ball. He looked at the clock near his bed. It was 5:15 already. Draco cursed once more, grabbed his cloak, and headed out to meet this girl.
He went out to seek Cromwell, the carriage driver. When he found him, the old man already had the horses hitched and was ready to go. Draco hopped on and Cromwell headed toward the BMTA. When they got there, he instructed to wait outside and went into the station to fetch the girl.
Draco found the carriage section 42089 and sat on a bench, scowling because he hated doing servant's work, and waited for the girl.
"Is this seat taken?" he heard a soft voice behind him.
Not even turning around, he muttered, "No. Go ahead."
A flowery aroma enveloped his senses as the newcomer sat next to him.
"Thank you," said the person. It was a girl.
Draco turned to look at her and when he did, he pulled back quickly, his eyes wide with shock. "Granger?" he sputtered.
The girl looked at him also. Hermione Granger.
"M-Malfoy?" she shrieked, attracting the attention of some nearby witches and wizards. She jumped up from the seat as if the person next to her were diseased. "What are you . . . aren't you ruining my day perfectly enough?" she demanded.
Draco rolled his eyes and looked away from Hermione. "And aren't you ruining mine enough?" challenged Draco. "Really, can't a wizard wait for his escort without some muggle-born witch rotting the very air?"
To his surprise, she ignored the barb and instead answered incredulously, "So your father had to buy you a date all the way from Bulgaria because you couldn't get one on your own?" She actually sounded as if she believed the ridiculous idea.
Draco got up and faced her with narrowed eyes. "I didn't ask for your insinuations," he snarled. He turned away and stood a distance from Hermione. She wore muggle clothing -- pants of blue denim and a red shirt. She pinned her hair up in a messy bun, as if she had to get ready in five minutes. "Why are you here, then, Granger? Not stalking me, I hope."
She snorted. "Don't waste your breath, Malfoy. I just got home and am waiting for an aunt who was vacationing in Bulgaria for the summer. I don't think that would mean much to you though, Malfoy?"
"Your right, Granger; it doesn't strike up my interest at all." And he was about to add something snide until a voice on the intercom announced, "Section 42355 has arrived."
Hermione looked at her slip, and smile brightly. She spared Draco one last look then ran off.
Draco stood alone, staring at the fleeting form of Hermione. His shoulder blade began to ache once more but thankfully faded away. Indeed Hermione Granger had grown up. She was now at least taller, and her teeth were now normal and perfect, quite the contrary in their first year. And the biggest thing was her hair -- still wavy and frizzy at times but no where near the fluff ball it had once been. It still wasn't to Draco's liking though. The most impressive version of Hermione was during their fourth year at the Yule Ball. She was beautiful.
"Sections 42089 have arrived."
Draco got up and searched for anything with the name 'Dimitrova' on it. Many carriages had pulled up. There were frugal ones, lavish and expensive ones, and the middle class ones. The girl had to be in an expensive one.
He then spotted a black carriage, with the name 'Dimitrova' engraved in gold at the side. He pushed his way through the crowd and to the carriage. He got to it and spoke to the driver of the carriage, shaking his hand politely. He pat the black horses then instructed the footman to open the door to the carriage.
Draco's breath caught in his throat as he saw who got out. She was an elegant lady of sixteen or maybe seventeen but seemed as sophisticated as a woman of thirty. Her dark wavy hair framed her oval face. An elegant black cloak glided over her curving body, and, as Draco learned afterwards, her dress was also black, revealing very daring portions of her heavenly body.
Her dark brown eyes sparkled. Her full pink lips curved in a stimulating smile. She greeted him by saying a hello with a charming Bulgarian accent, and Draco kissed her hand in a very gentlemanly manner. She nodded off the footman and driver and walked side-by-side with Draco towards his carriage.
Draco, mesmerized by the Bulgarian girl's beauty, forced himself to look away for the sake of decency. And when he did, he saw Hermione Granger walking hand in hand with the woman who was probably her aunt. She didn't seem to notice Draco for she was deeply engrossed in a conversation with her aunt. Her happiness made Draco smile a bit, though she was his arch rival. He couldn't help it. It surprised him.
"Is that your girlfriend?" asked the Bulgarian girl. Her voice dripped of scorn as she stared in disgust at Hermione.
Draco chuckled a bit. "My dear lady, I hope you aren't jealous. And to answer your question, no. she's not my girlfriend. I don't have one at the moment." He deliberately threw that bit of information in.
When they arrived at the carriage, Draco opened the door for the girl, whose name turned out to be Maria Dimitrova. He informed Maria that her suitcases and bags had already arrived at the manor. Maria sat next to Draco, keeping a modest distance from him though giving him a few looks here and there.
When they arrived at the manor, Narcissa and her maids were about Maria, ushering her inside in the most pleasant manner. Draco was forced to be away from Maria until the ball. Narcissa informed Draco that Lucius was meaning to speak with him, but what about, his mother wouldn't say.
Draco took his good time getting to the study where his father supposedly was. He stepped in and saw his father perusing a document on his desk. Lucius didn't even notice anyone coming in.
Draco stepped inside and examined his father for a minute. He then rapped his knuckles on the book shelves next to him. "Father, you wanted to see me?" he asked.
Lucius's head shot up. He spotted Draco and he motioned him closer over. Draco casually sat down in front of his father's desk.
"I hope that Miss Dimitrova's trip here to the manor was easeful?" said Lucius.
"Yes," Draco curtly replied.
"Good," said Lucius. "She is an attractive young women."
Draco pondered how to answer this. His father was very articulate with words and in a battle of the tongue, Draco was sure that he would lose. "She is a personable girl, if that's what you mean," answered Draco.
"Do not toy with me, Draco, for I am in a very foul disposition," warned his father.
"What do you mean, Father? I am merely speaking the truth."
"I mean it, Draco. You're just an escort for Maria. You know she's already engaged to a relative of hers, and I forbid you to do anything that would put the Malfoy name to shame. A huge deal is on the line, and I will not have you keep me in fear that my business will go awry for the whole evening because I am worrying over your behavior. I will not have you dishonor the Malfoy name with some meaningless scandal."
Draco smirked knowingly. "You're saying that I should not attempt to seduce her?" Draco cursed the fact that his father knew him so well.
"Exactly," said Lucius. "Promise me, Draco. And if you break your promise, there will be dire consequences."
Draco's happiness suddenly deflated a great deal. "Yes sir, I promise," he said slumping in his chair.
Lucius looked much relieved. "Good. You may go now."
Draco grudgingly got up and left, cursing inaudibly.
X
The ball had begun. Draco grinned to himself as he looked in the mirror.
"Oh, Master Draco, what lucky lady's heart have you taken this evening?" questioned the mirror.
"A woman from Bulgaria. Maria Dimitrova," said Draco smugly, smoothing down his hair.
"Lucky woman," said the mirror wistfully.
"I must be off," said he as he bowed slightly and left the room. He walked down the corridors and made his way down to the entrance room, looking particularly handsome. Draco pushed open the doors and grinned at what he saw. Elegant black marble streaked with thin veins of gold covered the floor of the huge ball room. Handsome statues of angels and saints decorated the walls. Ten chandeliers, twinkling prismatically and decorated with diamonds, provided an ample golden wash of light. This was the Malfoy way of life.
Handsome wizards of prominence and their beautiful ladies danced on the marble floor to the music of a violin symphony. Draco recognized some of them. He looked around, hoping to find his own beautiful lady, Maria, but he could not. Frowning, he walked down the staircase. As soon as he descended, many people crowded around him.
"Young Master Draco!" said one wizard with a particularly sharp nose. A Wellington. He had dark hair and thin lips that always curved in the most arrogant way, but otherwise, he was considered very handsome in the wizarding world. And he was a very popular man. Mostly due to his status as a duke.
Draco smiled politely. "Your Grace."
He bowed and excused himself without even saying a word after. Draco knew that was quite rude, but he was anxious to find his lady. He pushed his way through the crowds hoping to catch a glimpse of Maria somewhere, but he couldn't find her.
Just then, he smelled heavy perfume and felt a light hand tapping his shoulder. He whipped around and smiled obligingly as he looked down at the beautiful Maria. She smiled back confidently, showing glimpses of her white teeth. Her tongue ran over her lips in the most arousing way.
"Will you please me with this dance, Draco?" whispered Maria in Draco's ear.
Draco happily took her in his arms and away they went, dancing. Maria's black skirts swirled around her. Maria clung closer to him, and her hand slowly slid down to Draco's chest.
In response, Draco wrapped a tighter arm around his lady, pulling her close. He felt drugged.
X
Meanwhile, in London, Hermione was having the most wonderful dinner with her aunt and parents. Though her aunt and Hermione weren't blood-related at all -- her aunt being her mother's brother's wife -- Hermione and parents got along well enough with her. Her aunt was like a busy bee, and Hermione rarely had a chance to sit with her. Because of some sort of an accident that killed her husband, her aunt was widow. She wouldn't say what killed her husband and insisted on traveling all around the globe. Perhaps it was to escape the presence of her husband's spirit.
Laughter rattled the table as Hermione's aunt finished her story about a man from Siberia.
"Oh Isabelle, how was Bulgaria?" asked Hermione's mother.
Isabelle popped some chicken in her mouth and answered. "Oh, very nice but very dry. I don't think I can ever get accustomed to Bulgarian food. Mind you, I don't think I can get accustomed to any foreign food for that matter." She chewed and swallowed then turned her attention to Hermione. "I heard that you were announced a prefect for the Gryffindor House last year."
Hermione grinned and looked down at her food.
"Yes," thundered her father proudly. "And from what I hear from the Weasley's, Hermione has a good chance of being the Head Girl this year."
"Oh, Dad," said Hermione smiling, sheepish.
"Only problem is," said Hermione's father, "that we don't have anyone to brag to about. Surely not to muggles like ourselves wandering the streets of London." He chuckled and took a swig of his wine.
"Well, Hermione, you lucky girl," her aunt cooed. "I am very proud of you. And if we had anymore witches in the family but you and I, they would be proud of you as I am."
Hermione smiled brightly and thanked her for the compliment. "I can't believe it though: only three more days of vacation left."
"Yes time flies by," said Isabelle. "Tell me, does Minerva McGonagall still teach there?"
Hermione nodded, taking a sip of her juice.
"Minerva McGonagall," said Hermione's mother. "She's the head professor your house and teaches . . . tranfigurment or something of the sort?"
Hermione nodded. "Transfiguration," she corrected. "Yeah, she does mum. Very strict."
Isabelle nodded. "I've heard. I never got to know Minerva very well. I attended Beauxbatons, not Hogwarts."
The rest of the evening went well. Hermione was soon in her bed as the adults sat down in the lounge over glasses of wine. She was about to turn off the lights as the door to her bedroom opened.
"Hermione," whispered a figure at the door.
"Aunt Isabelle? What is it?" asked Hermione, sitting up from her bed.
Isabelle smiled and walked towards Hermione with something behind her back. "I wanted to give this to you personally. For your seventeenth birthday." Isabelle revealed what was behind her back and Hermione smiled. It was a package wrapped beautifully with gold wrapping paper and red satin bow.
"I hope I got the colors right -- they are the Gryffindor colors aren't they?" asked Isabelle eagerly.
"Oh, Aunt Isabelle. You really shouldn't have. And my birthday is way off . . . " Hermione cut herself off as her aunt thrust the package into her hands.
"Now, darling, open it when I leave. I must be on my way back to Wales to attend to business. You will appreciate the gift, I hope, since it belonged to my Grandmother and she passed it down to my mum."
Hermione smiled a bit sadly. She understood why Isabelle had given her the package. Her aunt had no daughter of her own as her husband died and Isabelle refused to re-marry.
"Thank you." Hermione leaned over and kissed her aunt on the cheek.
Isabelle got up. "I must take my leave. Good-bye, darling. Keep studying, and inform me as soon as you get your Head Girl notification."
Isabelle left the room with a last glance at Hermione.
Hermione looked at the small package in her hands. It was rectangular, more wide than high. It was heavy. She turned her table lamp on and carefully tore open the package, making the sure the wrapping paper had very little creases or rips in it. She took off the bow and placed it gently on her bed. She then lifted the cover of the white box and gasped in surprise at what she saw.
Inside was a chalice made of platinum, embroidered with emerald-shaped lilies. The top was wide and the brim coated with shiny gold. The holder was unusually thick.
Hermione gazed at the piece of treasure, wide-eyed, turning it over, up and down. She placed her fingers gently at the sides and looked under the chalice. She smiled in delight, hardly believing that such a treasure was hers. It was a full five minutes before she noticed a small message engraved of the bottom of the chalice.
She curiously eyed it and read what it said.
Thy wishes seen naught,
Thy desires wished naught;
Yet seek 'ere bought,
As he be direly sought.
Thunder crashed just after she finished reading the stanza. Rain started pouring down heavily outside.
X
The blankets rustled. The two bodies, entwined with each other, shifted the surface of the sheets. They moaned quietly in fear of being heard and caught. The thunder crashed once more, and the girl bit back a scream as he penetrated her again. And again. But it could have been raining fireballs outside, and they would not have noticed. They were so engulfed in their own passions and desires that the only things on their minds were each other.
"Draco," a feminine voice whispered.
"By god," moaned Draco. "Stay still, love -- just . . . stay . . ."
The figures in the blankets arched up together then slowly went back down.
"Draco," said the girl in between gasps after her climax.
Draco didn't answer as he just silenced the girl with a punishing kiss and laid her head down onto his bare chest. He smirked as he felt her moist lips against his skin. He relished in his triumph not only over this beauty but also over his father. Lucius could hold nothing against him. After all, he said not to seduce her, not the other way around. Draco kept his end of the promise. In the end, it was he who had been willingly seduced as she dragged him to his bedroom and started to kiss him.
"Good night Maria," he murmured softly with a wicked smile that would have chilled her if she had seen it. But instead, she closed her eyes and smiled peacefully, kissing his smooth chest once more with her heated lips.
X
The first of September finally arrived, and all Hogwarts students were at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters saying their good-byes and giving their kisses to family members and friends.
Truly, it was a happy day for Hermione. She had just gotten notice that she was made Head Girl. She wanted to whoop with happiness, even as the other Head Girl hopefuls offered her their congratulations. Hermione grinned. She knew she'd be Head Girl. She could feel it in her bones.
"Bye, Mummy, Daddy," she said as she kissed each of them on the cheek.
"Hermione," said her mother, releasing Hermione from her embrace. "Have fun this year."
After a few more minutes, Hermione finally got on the train and met with Harry and Ron. They searched for their own compartments on the train.
After a few hours of talking, laughing, and more talking, the Hogwarts castle finally came into view. Hermione held her breath and finally exhaled. She missed seeing the castle and waking up every morning in it. How she could bear being away after her graduation, she did not know.
"Well, Head Girl," said Harry charmingly. He extended an arm out to Hermione. "Could I have the pleasure of escorting you off the train?"
Hermione laughed and grasped his arm and surprisingly, Ron's. "You both can. She stepped off and looked around. She breathed in the fresh air, smelling the lake, the aroma of wonderful foods from the castle kitchens, and everything else that made her know she was at the castle.
"My home," she whispered with a small smile. "Our home." She looked around to see familiar faces grinning at each other.
She looked up and saw the brightly lit windows. It was wonderful to be back.